


An Unlikely Seduction

by neevebrody



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Bad Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  "Well, well, Black…aren't frightened of a little déjà vu are we?"  He smacked Sirius' hand away.  "If you had any brains beneath all that mangy hair, you'd know that every touch is agony, spell my clothes away."</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unlikely Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the bad!sex challenge at dontbendthatway  
> Prompt: Snape/?? Yes, Snape really is greasy down there too.

Sirius started as the shrill whistle of the kettle rent through the silent kitchen.  If he'd known he'd fall back to sleep waiting on the water to boil, he'd never have bothered getting up in the first place.  But then, he'd been wide awake at the time, hadn't he? 

It was an unbidden ritual, a holdover from years of harrowing nights in Azkaban, months living on the run and weeks of being back in a house he hated.  To wake two, even three times a night was not unusual.

"Incendio."  He pointed his wand at the cavernous mouth of the fireplace.  Flames roared up the flue and quickly warmed the space in front of the long table where he sat.  "Ah, well," he muttered, adding milk to the strong, black tea, "at least it's quiet."

Indeed.  Remus was off on some mission for Dumbledore and surely, if either Mad-Eye or Dung were in the house, the rafters would be rattling.  It happened, on occasion, being left alone at Headquarters – Order members off on missions or sleeping in their own homes.

Just as the cup touched Sirius' lips, a deafening _CRACK_ broke the relative calm, followed by a series of odd thumps and bumps in the main hallway, which heralded the piercing shrieks that, to this day, curdled Sirius' blood.  The cup crashed to the floor and his wand was in hand in seconds.  Azkaban had done little to dull his reflexes or senses.  Both were heightened as he made his way warily out of the kitchen.

It couldn't be an intruder, the wards hadn't been broken - he would have sensed it, plus none of the warning devices or charms had activated.  No, it had to be one of the Order, but which one?

"Shut up you old hag," Sirius bellowed, flicking his wand in the direction of the huge portrait in the hallway.  They still hadn't found a way to remove the likeness of Sirius' dear old mother from the wall of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.  The only thing anyone could do was cast a silencing charm.  It didn't stop her from shrieking, of course, she could bloody well scream until she was blue in the face—at least no one could hear her.

He rounded the corner into the main foyer and, in the dim light, could just make out a figure in black robes writhing on the floor.  His wand at the ready, he inched closer.

"Merlin's bloody testicles!  Snape?"  He bent to the prostrate figure.  Turning the body over, Snape's gruesome countenance hit him full in the face.  It was lined and drawn in pain.  At least what he could see of it, the part that wasn't covered in pale violet ooze.  Snape was trembling uncontrollably.  Sirius glanced at the hands clutching air.

"Fucking hell, Snape—what have you gotten yourself into?"  The greasy ooze did nothing to dull the daggers in Snape's eyes, and if looks could kill...

"You imbecile," he growled.  "Help me up."  Not surprising.  It hadn't done anything to diminish his sparkling personality either.  Just then, a wave of spasms wracked Snape's body, and Sirius realised that, indeed, something was terribly wrong.

Sirius reached for him and jerked back when Snape cried out in pain.  "All right, so you didn't get pissed and fall into a vat of something.  What is it, what's wrong?"

"My skin.  Whatever this is, it's burning my skin.  I—I can't bear anything to touch me."

"Let's try this then."  Casually brandishing his wand, Sirius uttered, "Levicorp—"

"Don't you dare, Black.  Don't you fucking dare."  Snape's voice was a low growl.  "Get someone else."

Sirius regarded the man on the floor.  "As much as I'd like to say sod you and go back to bed, I'm the only one here at the moment.  Either you'll let me help or not—your choice, Snape."

An unintelligible sound came from deep in the back of Snape's throat.

Sirius repeated the incantation and gently lifted the twisted body from the floor.  "What'cha think Snape, into the lab with you?  Maybe some cool water?"

Snape shook his head first, then answered, "I suppose it's a start.  I need to analyse—"

Siruis pointed his wand in the direction of the downstairs lab.  "The only thing you're going to do is sit in a cool bath."  Down a short flight of stairs lay the laboratory Snape used while at Headquarters.  Sirius lowered him to the floor near a table.  Then, transfiguring one of the large cauldrons into a fair sized, claw-footed bathtub, he spread his wand over it.  "_Aguamenti gradatim_."

When the bath was full, he slid his hand through the water to check the temperature.  "Right, then."  He reached for Snape's robes and gently lifted them from his shoulders, but as Sirius' hand brushed him, he heard a loud hiss.  "Sorry.  There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Snape glared at him.  Without thinking, Sirius took hold of Snape's trousers and began undoing the buttons.  "This might be a bit—"  He froze.  He slowly raised his eyes to Snape's – Snape remembered, too.

"Well, well, Black…aren't frightened of a little déjà vu are we?"  He smacked Sirius' hand away.  "If you had any brains beneath all that mangy hair, you'd know that every touch is agony, spell my clothes away."

"Where's _your_ wand?"  Sirius felt in the pocket of the discarded robes.   "Not here.  's all right, we'll find it later."  With a flick of Sirius' wand, Snape stood naked before him.  He turned to leave the room.

"Black?"

Sirius answered him without turning around.  "What's the matter Snape, can't get into the bath on your own—need me to stay and wash your naughty bits for you?  If we're gonna get you out of this mess, I've got some reading to do—unless of course," he turned and met Snapes' gaze, "you already know the counterspell?"

Snape mumbled something under his breath.

Sirius snorted.  "What this then—Severus Snape can't pull the antidote out of his arse?  Get in that bath, back in a minute."

~~~~

Sirius returned carrying a huge, smelly, threadbare tome from the library upstairs.  He glanced at Snape, whose head was lolled back on the rim of the tub.  He walked over to check the water, which was now quite warm. "Blimey, Snape, I've only been gone a few minutes."

Snape rolled his eyes.  "I would think even a mediocre wizard such as yourself would know that once the body temperature has been reduced, warm water is—"

"Certainly didn't do much for your complexion though, did it?"  He handed him a flannel and watched as Snape picked at the long strips of waxy substance covering his skin.

"Indeed."

Sirius flipped through a few more dusty pages.  "So, from what I can see here, you were hit with a _Flammavelius_ curse." 

"Your brilliance is astounding, Black."

Sirius peered over the book and raised his eyebrows.  "An old curse, not much used anymore.  I mean, there's any number of skin burning hexes, but this is the only one that causes the burning element to come through the pores of the skin, forming a slick, greasy—"

Sirius broke off, the neatly curved words on the page blurred in the wake of an unexpected flash of memory…

_A sixteen-year-old Lily Evans is standing beneath the Ravenclaw stands at the Quidditch pitch.  She's there with a tall, lanky, slack-haired boy wearing green and silver.  The lanky, nervous boy leans in to kiss her and she lets him, pulling him a little closer.  Their hands wander over one another, feeling, groping and then her hand disappears beneath the Emerald cloth.  Suddenly, she steps back, the lilt of her laughter, carried on the wind, reaches his ears several seconds after she turns and runs away._

_Next the lanky boy's eyes widen as he backs up against one of the wooden post girders—the voice—his own—_

_"So, you fancy a kiss, Snivellus?"_

Sirius' cock jerked as he remembered how Snape responded, opening up for his tongue and the adrenaline rush of snaking his hand inside Snape's robes to find him hard and—

Sirius cleared his throat.  "It says here the only way to get rid of all this muck is to bathe in very hot water with a mixture of powdered Graphorn, dried nettles and crushed snake fangs."  Sirius stepped to the store cabinet, gathered the items he needed and returned to the marble-topped table.

"So…" Snape drawled in that way Sirius knew didn't bode well.  "It would seem I'm still greasy down there, eh, Black?"

Sirius blinked, swallowed.  He hadn't anticipated talking about this – thought sure Snape would never broach the subject again.  Ever.  Well, two could play this game.  He took a deep breath, turned and faced the man.  "Yeah?" he retorted, "didn't stop you from coming all over my hand, now did it, eh, Snape?"

Severus' eyes narrowed to slits.  "Indeed," he sneered.  "However, I think that had more to do with being sixteen at the time and not a whit to do with you – a Gan-Ceann could have had hold of my cock and I'd have done the same."

His hand faltered half a second as he measured out the crushed snake fangs, something he knew Snape wouldn't miss.  "We'll never know will we?" Black recovered.  "You didn't hang around long enough for anything else did you?"  He mixed in the Graphorn, sifted the dry ingredients together and tied them up in a linen bag before continuing.  "I believe it was you who ran away that night."  He eyed Snape.  "You that never came back."

Snape snorted as Sirius walked toward the bath.  "Come back for what?  More of your ridicule, of Potter's?"

Sirius held the bag out to Snape and dropped it into the water when he reached for it.  Sirius smirked.  "It seems we remember that incident quite differently.  Funny, I don't recall ridiculing you.  I don't recall being the one who laughed at you.  And, I never told James about what I saw, or what we did."  Sirius flicked his wand at the bath.

Snape's eyes widened a bit.  "Aww, feeling a bit sorry for ourselves, Black?"

"On the contrary, Sev."  Snape blanched at the hated familiarity.  "You're the one who missed out."  He lifted his chin in the direction of the bathtub.  "Now, how's that water?"

Snape looked down into the rosy-colored liquid just beginning to swirl and bubble.  Sirius could see thin tendrils of steam rising from the surface.  "It seems—seems to be fine," he said, sounding not a little surprised, then looked up to stare at Black.

"What?  I'm not a total fuck-up, you know?"

Snape quirked an eyebrow, but Sirius noted the grin tugging the corner of his mouth.  He got on his knees beside the bathtub and raked around in the water for the flannel.  He scooped it up and wrung it out over Snape's back, tugging at the melting strands of slime – finishing off with a light scrub with the cloth.

"Mmmm,"

"What's that Snape?"  Sirius smiled at his bowed head.

"Nothing.  I—I can do this, Black.  I've been bathing myself for years."

"Right, then.  Have at it."  He tossed the flannel at Snape.  "I've got to mix the emollient anyway—save us some time."

"The—oh, yes, of course."

"Snape, this antidote requires you to be rubbed down with the stuff after you've gotten rid of all the muck."

"Yes, Black.  I am well aware of what is required."  He continued to strip the congealed mess from his body as Sirius set about mixing the oils and herbs for the rubdown.

When he was satisfied Snape was as de-gunked as he could be, Sirius handed him a towel and waited for him to step out of the bath.  "Do you mind?"  Snape glowered at him.

"What?  You don't have any parts I haven't."  He raised his eyebrows, "do you?"

Snape snatched the towel from Black's hand and stood, patting it against his tender skin.

"We can use one of the tables down here, I suppose," Sirius was saying, "or—"  He turned as Snape was stepping out of the bath and the rest of the words died in his throat.  Blimey, quite a difference from that scrawny sixteen-year-old Slytherin.  Sirius gazed at the curve of Snape's biceps and the angular lines of his thighs up to his—

But it was something else that drew Black's attention from the well-curved arse – something else that twisted his gut – had him fingering the raised flesh on his own chest.  Black followed the scars upward to Snape's face.

"Have you quite gotten an eyeful now, Black?"

_Yes, you arse, I have_…  "As I was saying, we could use one of the tables down here or—there's your room."  Gods, it had been ages since he'd blushed.  Fucking hell, he turned quickly so Snape wouldn't see.

"To be sure.  Let's see—a cold slab of marble or nice, crisp, clean linen?  Oh, I don't know, Black—that's a most difficult decision."

"Bastard."  Sirius' face clouded as he picked up the mortar containing the emollient and headed upstairs.

~~~~

Sirius settled him crossways on the huge, elaborately carved bed – the better to reach his entire body.  Beginning with Snape on his stomach, Sirius' mouth went dry as Severus pulled the towel from his waist, baring the luscious globes of his arse.  Sirius dipped into the oil and herb mixture and rubbed his hands together to both warm and activate the ingredients.  From the first tentative slide down the rippled landscape of Snape's back, stopping just short of the rise of his cheeks, Sirius knew this was not going to be a task he'd accomplish without having a raging hard-on.

He worked in silence to spread the oil over the surface of the skin, up to the shoulders and down the arms, the taut muscles revealing themselves beneath his fingers.  He cast around for any number of grim thoughts to ponder in order not to become aroused.  He imagined watching McGonagall and Branth, the former Ancient Runes professor, shagging and that worked for a bit until he remembered how bloody hot Minerva had been in her younger days.  Gods, that long flowing red hair of hers.

He rounded the bed and began to smooth the emollient over Snape's legs.  Facing that arse full on now, he couldn't stop the growing pressure against the placket of his trousers.  "Erm, Snape, you know I'm gonna have to—"

"Just get on with it, Black," he murmured.  "I assure you, the distaste is mutual."

Ah, but there was the rub…it wasn't exactly distasteful.  Sirius closed his eyes as his hands slid easily over the soft flesh.  He fought the urge to squeeze, to slip his thumbs inside the crack.  Jesus.  As a last ditch effort, he decided to concentrate on the scars that littered Snape's back.  It secretly made his blood boil whenever he heard another Order member criticise Snape or let the word "coward" slip past his or her lips.  He and Snape had their own problems with one another, true, but he'd never honestly considered Snape a coward.  He knew full well what Snape had given up _and_ what he'd escaped.  "All right, you're done here," he said, trailing fingers one last time over the arc of a cheek, feeling Snape's muscles tense beneath them.

Snape turned over.  Oh bloody fuck, this wasn’t going to be any better.  He had to drag his eyes away from the bulge beneath the towel – right up to Snape's face – _caught_.  Ducking his head, he moved back around to start at the shoulders and chest.  He worked quickly.  The sooner he could finish this, the sooner he could go back to his own room and have a toss – there was nothing else for him at this point, but he thought talking might be better than being left alone to this thoughts.

"How'd you go and get yourself cursed anyway, Snape?"

"A little Death Eater soiree at the Malfoy's.  Got wind of it last minute."

"Decided to crash the party, eh?  Alone?"  Sirius cocked his brow.

"What Albus _doesn't_ know won't hurt him, will it, Black?"

"I 'spose not, but you know how he is about us going off on our own?  Even he admits the Order is at a loss to know the extent of the danger out there.  You could've—I'm surprised you weren't recognised, I mean if someone was close enough to hit you with this hex—"

Snape scowled up at him.  "Sweet Merlin, Black, how even you can be so dull-witted, surprises me.  I was disguised, for fuck's sake."

"Ah.  Now I see the need for such an outdated curse.  The scarred skin would have given the spy away.  Bloody clever, actually."

"Indeed.  And—if it hadn't been—if you hadn't been awake—if I hadn't gotten help in time—"

"You're welcome, Snape."

Snape cleared his throat.  "What, what for?"

"For fucking well saving your life, you arsehole."

"Oh, save the histrionics, Black.  I was hardly in danger of—"

"For saving those austere good looks of yours, then."  Sirius felt the heat creep up his neck again as Snape's eyes flashed.

"There's no need to patronise me either.  I'm well aware of my—limitations."  He raised his head slightly and looked down at his body.  "However, you seemed to have done an adequate job with the antidote, and," he took a deep breath, "smells like you've done a fair job with the emollient as well—just the right amount of Myrtlap essence."

Sirius looked his way as he walked around to his feet.  "Aren't you afraid of the Earth spinning off its axis, causing chaos in the entire universe, dogs and cats living together? – Paying me a compliment," he added, answering Snape's perplexed look.

"Git," Snape muttered, lying back against the pillow.

Scooping up a bit of the emollient, he took one of Snape's bare feet in hand and began to spread the fragrant oil over it and up to the ankle.  He took particular care to knead the bottom of the foot, working his thumbs until he'd wrenched another moan from the man on the bed.

"Fair job indeed, I'd say."  He picked up the other foot.  "And I wasn't patronising you before."  Sirius' voice lowered; his eyes rested on the area covered with the towel.  "You—you're quite different from that awkward sixteen-year-old."  He grinned when Snape's cock jerked beneath its covering.  He heard the sharp intake of breath and the slow exhalation.  Sirius' hands wandered higher now, spreading the warm oil over naked calves, circling the tender skin behind Snape's knees, until finally sweeping them back around and up over taut thigh muscles.  Sirius was fully hard in an instant.  He let his gaze drift over Snape's body, then to his face.

"Why did you do it, Black?"

Sirius shrugged.  "Watching you,  Lily…made me hard."

"Anything with tits made you hard."

"Yeah, well—that wasn't all," he said, still staring at Snape, his fingers flirting dangerously with the edge of the towel.  "You didn't hang around, remember?"

He caught the hitch in Snape's breath as his thumbs dipped between his thighs, lightly brushing his sac – watched as Snape's eyes closed at the slide of his hands.

"So are you," he said after a moment.

"What's that, Snape?"

"Different.  Different from that cocky, self-absorbed Gryffindor."

It felt like he'd swallowed a brick.  He blinked at Snape.  "Yeah, I reckon so."  His face clouded again.  "Azkaban has a way of—"

Snape shook his head.  "Not what I meant."  But the damage was done.

"Well, what the fuck did you mean?" he asked, walking back around the bed to face Snape.  "Because it seems to me, you were bloody well saved from that fate—or worse.  Funny, that.  You deserved to be there and I didn't do a damn thing—and if I hadn't escaped, my whole fucking life would have been wasted—"

"Don't talk to me about a wasted life, Black—"

"Oh no, you don't get my pity, Snape.  You made your decision.  Albus chose to rescue your sorry arse, you selfish prick, and what do you do?  You pay him back by going off alone on missions, putting yourself in danger—"

"Why, Black, I didn't know you cared."

"I don't, you unutterable bastard!  Just keep it up; it won't be me that helps you next time."  He set the mortar down and turned but Snape grabbed his wrist and held fast.  By the time he'd turned back around, Snape was sitting up.  They stared at one another for a long moment before Sirius felt the tug on his arm – and the resultant tightness of his cock confined in its cloth prison.  Please, for the love of Merlin, don't let Snape notice. But there wasn't a sodding chance in hell of that happening.  Nothing got past Snape.

He let Snape pull him down until he was sitting and they were face to face, a breath apart.  "Finish it," Snape purred against his lips, pushing Sirius' hand beneath the towel.

Sirius tilted his head.  "That's fairly deep water you're looking to tread, there, Snape—you're sure about this?"

"I know how to swim."  Snape's face was impassive.

Sirius raised his eyebrows as a last warning.  Bloody hell, his heart was slamming against the thin wall of his chest; surely, Snape could hear it.

"What do you want a seduction?  I'm really not very good at this sort of thing, Black."

Snape's cock was hot and hard, just as it had been all those years ago.  Sirius weighed it in his hand, stroking, long slow pulls that made Snape moan and arch into it.  But that wasn't good enough—not good enough by half.  He bent down and heard all the air leave Snape in a low moan as he lowered his mouth over him, his own cock aching to be touched.  It had been too long, too damn long with only his own hand for company.  Even longer since he'd had a cock in his mouth—surprised at how much he missed it.

He worked it up and down, pressing his tongue to the underside, making Snape thrust up into him.  Hesitantly at first, then when Sirius didn't object, more forcibly.  Gods, Sirius could stand it no longer – he reached between his legs but Snape's hand was already there, molding over the hard ridge and he bucked into it, moaning around the mouthful as Snape gripped him, pushing back against Sirius' thrusts—and that was all it took.

Sirius bucked wildly as he felt Snape stiffen.  He watched Snape fist the sheet with his free hand as he tasted the familiar bitter tang, swallowed it down.  

Snape opened one eye.  "Hmm, maybe not too different…"

Sirius looked down at the spreading wet spot darkening his trousers.  "Bloody hell, Snape."

Snape ran a long, slender finger over Sirius' jaw.  "Indeed, Black.  Indeed."

He was surprised to see Snape move aside and pull the covers back.  An invitation?  "Don't you think Dumbledore will want a report right away?"  The first few splinters of daylight were just beginning to slice into the room.

"I think I'd rather relay bad news later rather than sooner if you don't mind."

"A cuppa then—just need to heat the water—"  He moved to the door.  Circe's daughter, now he _felt _bloody sixteen.  Snape's voice stopped him again.

"That would be nice, but later perhaps."  Sirius turned to face him.  "Undress, now, and get into bed."  It no longer sounded like Snape was giving him a choice, but a choice wasn't really what he wanted after all. 

He unbuttoned his shirt but did not remove it.  Unfastening his trousers, he let them fall to the floor.  Stepping out of them, he clutched the edges of his shirt.

"All the way."

Sirius regarded the floor.  "It's not—since Azkaban, I—"

"Shut up, Black."  Snape's voice was low, edged in silk.

Sirius raised his head.  The derision in those black eyes, the cold hardness, was gone.  Sirius saw something else there – something that hadn't been directed at him in a long, long time.  The same thing he'd seen in the eyes of that lanky, awkward teenaged wizard so many years ago.  He let the shirt fall over his shoulders, warded the door and climbed into Snape's bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Brit Picker/Beta: hull1984  
> Gan-Ceann is an Irish headless spirit


End file.
